Find a Way To Follow!

Friday, June 28, 2013

I noticed you.I
realized you slowed down suddenly, and weaved ever so slightly.We all know now what that means.Sure enough, as I pulled next to you, you
were texting.I watched you, and stayed
next to you.For 10 seconds.The entire way down that hill, you had your
face lowered, eyes off the road, counting on your peripheral vision and
youthful confidence that you would be OK.

I honked my horn, and you looked up, startled.I shook my head at you in reproach, and you
looked at me like I was an absolute asshole.

No, young man, I just wanted to remind you of
something.The road is more important
than whatever is happening on that phone, unless your significant other just
gave birth…and then I still want you to cheer but lay your fucking phone down
and wait to text her back until you can pull over.Safely.

I wanted you to stop at the gas station, or at the
supermarket, so I could tell you something.You didn’t, so here is what I wanted to say.

You don’t know me, but I’m going to tell you something
important, something lifechanging, because if you were my son, I’d want someone
to do this for me.Look, I know I’m a
stranger, but I’m going to start with this sentence:“I love you.”

Now don't go all weird, there’s more than one reason for me to say that.First, you’re a person, like me, and I honor
your place in this world and the potential you bear for awesomeness.Second, I’m saying it for your parents,
siblings, significant other, and future children.They love you, or did, or will.I’m old enough to be your father, so please,
let me give you a wee bit of fatherly advice.

It takes just one moment of inattention to die.

All it takes is someone running a light, swerving to avoid a
deer, slamming the brakes because a wine bottle exploded, having a blowout, crossing
the median toward you, or any of a million other crazy things that require us
to keep our eyes on the road at 50mph.At 50, if you hit a stationary object, you could fucking die.Like that semi truck 3 cars ahead?In 10 seconds, if he’d come to a dead stop…you
would have too.

I don’t care if you’re Mario Andretti…what do you mean "who
is that"?Never mind, I get that I’m
old to you.OK, I don’t care if you’re Danica
Patrick, a race car driver is good because they pay attention. They're engaged in the act of driving.

But whatever was on that phone was more important to you
than your safety, and the safety of everyone around you.Look, son, driving is a privilege, and a
contract among all of us that we will watch out for each other.A lot of people break that contract, and we
call them assholes.Please, son, don’t
be an asshole.

You might accept the responsibility for your own life and
death, and even for the hole your loss would leave in the rest of us.That’s brave of you.But let me ask you this:if a pedestrian had started across the road
in front of you, perhaps paying more attention to their phone, would you have
seen them?Or would you have just become
an accidental killer?That’s a pain you
don’t want, and one that takes only an instant to arrive.You are young, and likely have great reflexes…but
those reflexes require you to look out the windshield, not at your smartphone
screen.

And did I mention that it’s illegal here?If I’d been a cop, you’d have been saving up
the dollar bills for your court costs, my boy.

Please, son, put the goddamn thing down.Leave it there.If you absolutely must look at it, please…wait
for the red light.You were 26 or so
seconds away from a minute wait at that light. Kid, I hate that light.Were those 10 seconds of distraction so important that they couldn’t
wait that long?No, son, of course they
weren’t.

I’ve gotten angry plenty of times at people texting on the
road.Today, my boy, you didn’t piss me
off.You scared the everloving shit out
of me.We could have lost you today.I can’t tell you how happy I am we didn’t.Now please, please, don’t text behind the
wheel.It’s truly every bit as dangerous
as Russian Roulette.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

1) I think I regret accidentally shooting my wife in the
back of the head.And now that the FBI
is reading the blog, allow me to explain.

We were on
the road, heading to The Lake. The Vibe
had been packed with clothes and Little Danger’s life jacket and tasty treats
aplenty, including a wine bag. In that
bag was a bottle of Moscato, a lovely, but somewhat fizzy, wine that Wifefish
adores.

The road
got a bit rough, and the bottles slid from vertical to slightly
horizontal.Pro tip:one should not store fizzy wines
horizontally.

Suddenly, a
scream issued from the rear seat and wine splattered throughout the car.Now, when I say throughout, I mean that it
was like the blood spatters in a Quentin Tarantino flick.There was Moscato on the windshield.Think Pulp
Fiction.

The
pressure in the bottle had built to the point where it had fired the cork at
point-blank range into the back of Wifefish’s cranium, further ricocheting
somewhere in the car to some nook or cranny that will render it an archeological artifact.

I added
insult to injury when we pulled off the interstate, as I brought us to a stop
somewhat quickly…and the still-sideways bottle sloshed from o’er Wifefish’s
shoulder and all over her dress.This
led to a massive cleanup effort and parking lot wardrobe change for her, as we
tried to keep her modesty intact.It
also led to a single, solitary tear rolling down my cheek as I dropped the
near-empty bottle into the trash can.Like the Indian in the litter commercial, I was moved by the loss of
something beautiful…a bottle of Moscato.

We spent the rest of the road trip making absolutely sure we
didn’t get pulled over, lest an officer think we were a rolling wino tour de
force.

2)I think whoever
created the “Relaxation Station” knew exactly what they were doing. We tied up
the houseboat in a cove, and then most of us jumped in the raft to chill
out.Granted, for Little Danger, the
thing serves as a giant trampoline jumping pool thing, as he launches himself
from the seats into the netting in the middle like a crazed lemming in a
temporal moebius loop.

Note to designers:design flaw exists.Cupholders
will not hold a wine bottle.

Note to self:you
could have had the Moscato in this thing, you moron.

Note to Wifefish:I’m
really sorry about the Moscato.

3)I think Little
Danger has become obsessed.Wifefish has
revealed unto him that his upcoming 3rd birthday will be celebrated
with a Star Wars bedroom, complete with custom built AT-AT bed and wall murals,
and a handmade R2-D2 trash can.

Not a day
goes by that he doesn’t ask “Where my Shtarwarsbed?” Obsession, thy name is toddler.

Needless to say, this very blog will feature a
pic-heavy post with a preponderance of images when the project is
perfected.I may be every bit as excited
as he is.

4)I think I’m glad I
got to run a game this calendar year.I’m trying to get another one in quickly, though.A 4 hour Deathwatch session just wasn’t
enough to do more than whet my appetite for some good RPG sittin’ around the
table with junk food and beer and good friends fun.I feel the need for a breakfast-lunch-dinner
gameathon comin’ on.

5) I think it was an exciting 48 hours on the political
front.Between an amazing filibuster in Texas
(google that shit) and a sweet SCOTUS decision, it seems there’s still some
life left in liberty after all.And
forgive me if I seem overly victory dance on this, but of late our dear
government machine had started looking less like the Great American Melting Pot
and more like Mordor meets eleventy billion levels of bureaucracy.

I’m happy that DOMA was struck down.It was, at its core, a law designed to deny
rights to a group of Americans.In that
sense, it had to go, as it was in fact unconstitutional.That’s going to be logically true no matter
which side of the “gay issues” you stand on, dear reader, so if you wish to
rebut, make certain you have some ironclad logic or I will gleefully make a fool of you
in my comments section.

I’m also happy
because I think it’s OK to be Takei, and if somewhere down the line Little
Danger decided (or discovered) he was into boys instead of girls, I want him to
be able to live that life with as much normalcy as it deserves, instead of all
the hoopla that currently surrounds it.I have gay friends that are married already, just not in the eyes of the
state.It’s time for that to
change.(The eyes, not the
married.)

As for the Texas
filibuster, I just couldn’t help but get involved.I may have called a Texas Senator “nimblenuts”
directly.Look, I’m sick to death of
wild hyperbole in politics.Here’s his incredibly
stupid, irresponsible, and completely false tweet, and my reply.

@Bill_Zedler Hey
nimblenuts, in what way did they create terror?Signed, an out-of-stater laughing at your wild
hyperbole.
— Dangerboy (@DangerLeanings) June
26, 2013

Really? TERRORIST? So what you’re saying is that in addition to standing
and talking, Wendy Davis threatened to poison the water supply unless you dropped
it? No?

Then surely she said she would detonate a bomb if the bill passed.
No?

Then perhaps she intimated that an Emu Death Squad would systematically
raid the family homesteads of each Senator in opposition? What, NO?

All she did was speak? Then that doesn’t equal a terrorist, you dimwitted
shitsack. Handy rule of thumb: if Batman wouldn’t punch the person out, they’re
not engaged in terrorist activity. With the
noted exception of Robin, of course. Sometimes
you just have to knock a ward around.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Greetings, gang!It’s
time for me once again to amuse my taste buds and share the experience with
you.Since the inaugural beer review was
Fascist Pig, I thought I’d continue with two offerings from the same brewer, Finch’s
Beer Co, hailing from Chicago.

Chicago and
booze have a rich history, a special relationship from the Prohibition
days.Al Capone is immortalized in our
collective conscious, the most visible symbol of days gone wrong which brought
us the mega-brewers and squashed many a great beer.Chicago,
quite rightly, now boasts more than one beer producer laying down some tasty
treats.

Enough with the history lesson, let’s talk beer.I found myself on the way to the lake, as I
often do, and stopped at a great liquor store on the way that has a wall of coolers
as wide as a politician’s lying streak.Having enjoyed the Pig, I decided to give Finch’s another try, and
picked up their CutThroat American Pale Ale.

One of the store employees noticed my choice, and
recommended, nearly demanded, that I also grab their Threadless if ever I liked
an IPA.Given that I do, in fact, enjoy
a hop assault on my tastebuds, I complied with minimal resistance.Given also that I had already filled my cart,
my wallet may have whimpered for a moment, but otherwise there was no
objection.I drove on to the lake and
boarded the houseboat, ready to take the pontoon boat out the next day for
pleasant relaxation at what some lovingly call the Redneck Day Spa.

And lo! it came to pass that I loaded several cans into the
cooler, and set forth to tie up in a favorite cove to swim, skip rocks with Little
Danger, and taste beers with his Pop Pop.

After kicking the day off with a Pig, I pulled out the red
can of the Threadless IPA.

Upon the first sip, I felt immediately grateful for the
arm-twisting beernut in the boozehaus.He’d not led me astray.The aroma
is quite nice, fruity and hoppy, and the flavor is right there as well, with a
fruity sweetness to start and a bitter hoppiness on the backside.As the sun came from behind the clouds to
warm us, this beer cooled my tongue with delight.You’ll find over at Beer Advocate that they
score this one at an 81, a good solid percentage, and one I agree with.

The next beer on deck was the Cut Throat (named for the
finch, not the piratical activity) American Pale Ale.This one is similar to its brother, but more
mellow.It’s a middle-of-the-road Pale,
something that refreshes but still has flavors to savor.It’s more pine and citrus in the palate, and
less bitter in the finish.The current
Advocate score is 79, bringing it in just about in line with the
Threadless.

Finch’s has two more offerings I haven’t tasted yet, but I
assure you I will before the summer is through.There are more lake trips in my future, which means more opportunity to
relax and indulge in taste bud hedonism.

Threadless and Cut Throat, from Finch’s…give ‘em a try, and
Bottoms Up!

Friday, June 7, 2013

1) I think that Lake
Therapy is addicting.I do in fact have a bit of a sunburn right
now, as I remembered to slather sunscreen liberally upon the little Ginger I
bear responsibility for, but forgot to do so for myself.Instead, I slathered my insides with beer
while hanging out in a cove, a progression of Fascist Pig, Threadless IPA, Cut
Throat Pale Ale (all 3 from Finch’s), then moving along to a Hobgoblin and
finishing with a Strongbow cider.It was
a good afternoon.

There’s something strange about my metabolism at the lake,
an odd sort of semi-immunity to beer that only occurs there.Whereas I may stop at two on any given other
day, on a lake day it’s long into the sixth before I start hearing my internal
monologue introducing itself to the twelve steppers.

It may be the sun, it may be the water, it may even be the
complete relaxation that wraps around me like a mother’s hug when I’m on the
water.But one thing is certain:for a man who enjoys good beers and good
boozes, it’s a pleasant circumstance.

Our post-storm sunset

2) I think a line of thunderstorms can create excitement
under the best of circumstances; when on a boat it’s truly an interesting
time.We were hit Saturday evening by a
squall line that was blowing steady 30 mph for a few minutes, which meant your
very own Dangerboy tossed his shirt off and ran to the upper deck to secure
chairs before they went over the side.The rain was biblical, and also chilly.I enjoyed a very good dinner in damp shorts, as we watched someone’s
inflatable killer whale sail across the marina.

Fortunately, Little Danger was unperturbed.We’ve spent some fun thunderstorms together
on the porch, his first when he was only 4 days old.I’d like to get it into his head early, and I
think I’ve succeeded, that storms are nothing to fear, just a reason for
caution.

3) I think it’s a little disgusting the amount of civil
liberties I’ve watched erode away over the past 8 years.The TSA, DOJ, NSA, and several other alphabet
soup agencies really need pulled in.And
gang, it’s only going to get worse.The
information collected about each of us leads to a dystopia once imagined, now
experienced.We’re headed toward the
world of Shadowrun, just lacking elves and orcs.

Still, it could be worse.Watching the events unfolding in Turkey
makes me truly happy that our police still, for the most part, toe the line of
“good guy”.Yet I also see a possible
future there for Little Danger, as the soldierizing of our police force
continues.It’s concerning, to say the
least, as probable cause is less and less necessary for search, seizure, and
incarceration.We increasingly approach
the Panopticon, and I think it’s a horrible way to design a society.

4) I think it’s been too long since I’ve sat down at the
gaming table.I just realized I haven’t
run or played an RPG since the calendar rolled over to 2013, and that’s just
damned unacceptable.This shall be
rectified with great prejudice.Now I
just have to figure out what group to get together, and which game to run…hmmm.

5) I think I’m happy to be typing these words again.At the risk of covering ground we’ve already
walked together, it’s important that I dig out from this self-imposed mountain
of solitude and get social again.For a
guy whose gift is getting along with people, I’ve been seeing way too much of
my own four walls.

The resurgence of this place, my own little corner of the
government-surveilled series of tubes, has helped me to come back to a sense of
normalcy and productivity.Since success
often breeds more success, I can’t imagine this as anything other than a good
thing.

So…what do YOU think today?

Bonus thought: Did I just get through a whole blog post with "damn" as the strongest word? What the heck is wrong with me????